Krewe Daddy (21 page)

"What's so funny?" The aide lifted Drew's arm over his shoulder, while another steadied him onto the mattress.

"I was just thinking about leaving this place."

"That's the right attitude." The dark-haired aide pulled a light blanket over Drew.

"I can't wait."

Drew perked up at the sound of Luis' voice. "I hope you still think it's a good idea in a couple weeks."

"No worries. I talked to the officer on duty. They're sending over some detectives with the district attorney from New Orleans to talk to you."

Drew could barely keep his eyes open. "Too tired. Later."

The aide closed the window shades. "Let's let him sleep. Hopefully by the time everyone else gets here, he'll be in better shape."

"Do you mind if I wait in here with him?"

The aide shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Chapter Nineteen

Four days later, Luis stood in the middle of his apartment. He barely recognized the place. Anything that would prevent Drew from maneuvering with his wheelchair had been put in temporary storage. The spare bedroom had been transformed into a mini-hospital room for his convenience. A nurse was hired to be with him all day, and Luis would manage the night shift. Therapists were scheduled, and Luis was trained to deal with Drew's seizures and other medical needs.

Luis also scheduled his own therapy, to help him cope with his new demands and the realities of his future relationship with Drew. The man he loved might never be the same again. Luis had to admit, having Drew move in was turning his life upside-down. And Drew wasn't even home from the hospital yet.

Luis glanced at his watch.
The private ambulance should be leaving St. Augusta's
soon.

Once Drew remembered that members of the Retribution gang had attacked him, bits and pieces of the event came back to him with more clarity. Of all the names Drew couldn't remember, that was the only one he could. He was sure three people had thrown him in the back of the car, yet he remembered a fourth person being there, too.

There'd been a flurry of activity to try to jog Drew's memory for more specific details, but so far, nothing had surfaced. Faces were blurred, according to Drew, and looking at police photographs did nothing. But he remembered what the attackers said, and the detail with which he described their brutality made Luis sick to his stomach. Extra security was stationed outside the apartment door and at the main floor residents'

security station.

If everything went well, his doctors said that by Thanksgiving, Drew would be in a walking cast.
Some semblance of normal could return to the apartment.
Luis could see how hard Drew was working on his memory issues. The proper medication helped control the seizures, and Drew seemed to be getting better at recognizing the onset of one.
How
long will it take before he doesn't have them at all?
Once Drew was up and walking on his own, Luis worried he'd have a seizure and hurt himself again.

The physical therapist had stopped by yesterday afternoon to make sure everything he needed was available, and tried to allay Luis' fears.

"Stuff might happen, no matter how hard you try. We'll deal with it," the therapist had said.

Luis sighed. Even though it was barely eleven, Luis could have used a stiff drink.

* * * * *

That evening, Drew's nurse, Nate, got him ready for bed while Luis looked on.

Being told what to do was a lot different from experiencing it for himself.

"I should be good for the night." Drew looked exhausted. The trip up here, and all the activity of getting him settled, had clearly worn him out.

Luis was ready to hit the sack, too. His head pounded from the countless requests and questions that were asked and answered.

"Do you need anything else before I leave?" Nate eyed his new patient.

"I'm fine. I want to go to sleep and get out of Luis' hair."

"Okay, I'll be back at six. We need to keep you on a—"

"I know, a regular schedule. Jesus, this isn't my first day being an invalid."

Luis looked at Nate. "I think I can manage. I'll show you out."

They walked through the living room together. "He hasn't had many troubles at night. His meds really knock him out. Keep the bed rails up, and he'll probably still be asleep when I get back."

Luis opened the apartment door for Nate. "Thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

Drew was still awake when Luis returned. "It's going to take some time to get a routine down."

"Believe me, the hospital people are experts at being drill sergeants."

"You sound pissed."

Drew let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm not really. Well, I am about one thing."

Luis pulled up a chair. "What?"

"I feel like a burden. I'm a lot of work. Like a damn newborn in some ways."

"You need to get over that. Bringing you here was my idea. There are bound to be some bumps until we get used to each other." Luis rubbed his forehead, the throbbing in his temples increasing by the moment. "I won't kid you; all of this is overwhelming right now, but you're getting better every day, and I'll get used to helping you do whatever needs doing. You're not a guest. This is your home for the foreseeable future. So, let's work together to get you on your feet and back in control of your life."

"When I told those two to find you . . . ."

"Teak and Kevin?"

"Yeah, I never expected you to ask me to live with you. It was the furthest thing from my mind." He paused, seeming to need to collect himself. "But I really hated the idea of living in a nursing home. That would have been a death sentence. When they told me where I was going, I wanted to curl up in a ball and shut the world out."

"But you're here, and this is where you're going to stay until you can take care of yourself."

Worry filled Drew's eyes. He cleared his throat. "But what if I can't ever live independently again? They don't know how this brain injury is going to heal. I might be retiring at thirty-five. I didn't win the lottery."

His voice fell to a whisper. "You could end up hating me." He wagged his hand between them. "Hating this."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is our first official night as a couple."

"A couple of nuts."

Luis shrugged.

"If this situation or I get to be too much for you, promise me you'll tell me before you lose your mind or can't stand the sight of me."

"You have my word." Luis rose. "Now go to sleep. I'm going in the living room to drink heavily."

Drew chuckled. "Nice. Thanks a heap for nothing."

"Hey, I looked at some of your prescriptions. You're sailing just fine without the booze."

"I'd trade all of it in a heartbeat."

"I know you would. Call me if you need me."

Luis went straight to the liquor cabinet and cracked open the Grey Goose. A handful of ice slid into the tumbler. The sound of his favorite vodka filling the glass was heaven-sent.

His face reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
What have I gotten myself into?

He took a deep drink of the booze and hoped it would numb the panic, which, at the moment, was paralyzing.

Luis glanced toward Drew's bedroom and sent up a silent prayer that he'd sleep through the night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to bed at nine, unless he was sick. Tonight he felt bone-weary. He poured another splash of vodka in his glass and was grateful for his upcoming therapy session.
I think I'm going to need it.

Chapter Twenty

Five weeks later, Drew hobbled up to the dining room table for dinner. He pulled out the upholstered chair, always mindful of how weak his right arm was.

Though out of the cast, his arm had a long way to go before it was fully healed and strong again.

His left ankle remained in a walking cast. The physical therapist was optimistic about Drew's progress, but Drew was scared shitless that he'd have a permanent limp.

At least he was out of that blasted wheelchair. The day Nate the Nurse walked out the door was a good day, in Drew's opinion.

Drew sat down and placed the napkin on his lap. "This is my favorite time of the day."

Smiling, Luis put a generous portion of fish and chips on Drew's plate. "Why?"

"Everything is done. The therapists and everyone else coming and going have finally left us in peace." Drew cut a piece of catfish. "Doesn't hurt that you're such a fantastic cook, too." He popped the golden morsel in his mouth.

Luis sprinkled malt vinegar on his fish and chips. "I'm glad you approve. I've enjoyed cooking again. Before you moved in, I never seemed to have enough time or feel like fussing just for myself." He raised his glass of Abita beer. "Cheers."

Drew lifted his glass of chocolate milk. "I'll trade ya."

Luis shook his head. "No thanks."

"I miss having a drink."

Luis paused in mid-sip. "I could get rid of all the alcohol, if that would make you feel better."

Any other person might have appreciated Luis' consideration, but Drew thought it sounded like he was taking pity. "I wasn't asking for that. I just stated a fact."

Anger passed in Luis' eyes. "Then I'll keep drinking." He took another sip of beer.

Drew tossed down his cloth napkin. "What are you getting out of this? I'm holding your life hostage. You gave up your apartment, job, social life, and even your love life. Even those two guys postponed their wedding because of me. For what?"

Luis dabbed a steak fry in ketchup. "Are we really going to go through this again?" He shoved back from the table. "I wanted to help you, and I'm going to keep doing it until you don't need me anymore. Can we please enjoy our dinner and not fight again tonight? We've recently had enough of those, in my opinion."

Drew got up from the table. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

* * * * *

Sure, Drew's life was full of challenges, but Luis could see how he was progressing, overcoming the obstacles, a little at a time. Getting the cast off his arm, and being out of the wheelchair, boosted Drew's morale like crazy. The seizures came less frequently and were shorter. And every now and then, he remembered Luis' name.

He ate in silence, hoping Drew would change his mind, and come back to the table. Tonight, he didn't feel like being the peacemaker.
Drew picked the fight. He can
apologize.

When he finished eating, Luis placed his dishes in the sink. He couldn't avoid seeing the large calendar hanging on the corkboard in the kitchen. Loaded with appointments, this coming Saturday was circled in red.
Kevin and Teak's wedding day.

But last month, they'd postponed the ceremony until Valentine's Day in hopes that Drew could be there. Drew had been furious when Teak called with the news. He'd even tried to back out of his best man duties. Teak wouldn't hear of it.

Leaning against the counter, Luis ruminated about what his life had become in the past weeks.
Chaos
came to mind. He was angry, frustrated, exhausted, worried, and overwhelmed most of the time. All of his energy and resources were devoted to Drew's needs.

Realization and warmth filled him. He'd never been so selfless in his life.

Tomorrow morning, he planned to make egg-in-the-hole for Drew, and remind him how far they'd both come.

He had another idea. Now that his wheelchair days were over, Luis thought his surprise might really cheer him up.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Luis stepped back and examined his handiwork. The Christmas tree wasn't very big, but it shimmered with holiday spirit. Luis couldn't believe he'd managed to drag out the decorations and the tree without waking Drew.

One advantage of all that medication is he sleeps like a rock.
Luis snorted.
Maybe one night I'll
have to try some of those meds.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept through the night.
And now, I'm pooped.
He looked at the clock. 10:15 p.m. felt like 1:00 a.m.

Luis inspected a few of the collectable, glass ornaments hanging from the tree's branches. He made a note to buy one of the beautiful snowflakes especially for Drew, so he'd feel a part of the holiday celebrations, too. It occurred to him that Drew probably had decorations, and might like more of his personal items from his apartment. Neither of them had been back there. The police wouldn't let Drew to go home, or anywhere except the hospital, until he was healthier. Oftentimes, when Drew's face was a mask of pain and frustration, Luis worried he might jump off the balcony just to escape what his life had become.

Before he turned off the Christmas tree lights, Luis whispered his wish. "I hope seeing this tree tomorrow makes you smile."

The living room went dark, and Luis went to bed.

* * * * *

A shout awakened Luis. Used to the drill, he flipped off the covers, slid into his slippers. On his way out, Luis grabbed a robe.

Drew's anguished voice grew louder. "No, don't make it worse. Get me out. I can't breathe."

Luis hustled down the hall. When he arrived, Drew was thrashing in his bed, engulfed in another nightmare.

"Get them off me!" He sounded petrified.

Luis rushed to his side, and took Drew's hand. For the umpteenth time since Drew moved in, Luis was thankful for bedrails.

"I'm here. You're okay." He kept his voice calm, but firm.

Drew began shaking.

"Son of a bitch. No."

Luis reached for the soft, plastic tongue depressor, and eased it into Drew's mouth to ensure he could breathe. When he was sure Drew's airway was clear, he rolled him onto his side.

"I'm here, Drew. Hang in there." Luis repeated the phrases, while rubbing Drew's back and shoulder until the seizure ended.

Panting afterward, Drew opened his eyes. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, but he couldn't formulate the words. Confusion was very common for Drew after a seizure.

"Take your time. That was a nasty one."

Drew licked his lips. "Sandalio."

Luis knew that name. The cops and the D.A. had said it a hundred times. "What about Sandalio?"